


They Were Warriors

by talentedbutnot



Category: Black Panther (Comics), DCU (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Wonder Woman (Comics), Wonder Woman - All Media Types
Genre: Action, Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Blood and Violence, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fantasy, Kings & Queens, Martial Arts, Mild Sexual Content, Royalty, Science Fiction, Some Humor, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:27:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25651345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talentedbutnot/pseuds/talentedbutnot
Summary: T'Challa of Wakanda. Diana of Themyscira. Warriors first they juggle sworn duty with the taboo as those that hate them plot their ruin.
Relationships: T'Challa of Wakanda/Diana of Themyscira
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	1. Prologue - Past & Present

THEN...

_He knew who was watching. Not that it mattered. Four of the five had fallen. The last lunged sharp for his jugular. It wasn't the air slicing by the tip of his neck he brought its wielder over the catch and toss he turned into. The stage's sand wasn't so hot against his feet anymore. Thinking about it would kill him. Daily training helped his left and right lean, kept it effortless, like the duck to turn over into a slide across one knee with the hand dug into a never still surface. Falling from the stage meant losing. Being pierced by a thirty-eight inch assegai spear meant something else. His form found his footing. His opponent had him by a good forty pounds. It worked against him. He felt his knuckles smack the rounded jaw mugging then reeling from it. Three hits to a gut that felt like he punched stone were lightning quick. Raising his elbow hit his opponent's face again, making his teeth click before they loosened. It was less about how he hit but where. On his feet he stared daggers at his opponent's not budging a flexed muscle. As his knees gave his towering size fell with him. Victorious, the prince cared little for how he wasn't winded in the least. He heard the cheers of every tribe that was in attendance. Even the foreign that were visitors from a distant land he knew better than most. The next thing he felt was a hand on his shoulder and turned to see wisdom. He could frighten with the felined mask he removed, draped in little else but it. When he had his elder saw a clean shaven young man with too much to prove._

_"Congratulations, T'Challa," his elder said with a weathered smile as friendly._

_"We did it, Azzuri," he said._

_"No, my prince. This victory is yours alone. Go on. Revel in it before they don't give you the chance,"_ _Azzuri said playing the bossy father figure._

_It was proper to face the people. His people. A sea of color that wasn't the purple reserved for the monarchy. The Golden Plains stayed a windy backdrop not sullied by outsiders. Except them. He noticed how they were given the honor of front row seats. Just below his sister grinning until her dimples hurt and his stepmother being a seasoned beauty only matched by one. When he finished gifting them a bow she was next. The two with her towered over mere mortals. The stories were true. Like the Dora, they were stunning, well-muscled under cuirasses of solid gold and leering under helmets but not because of disdain. He wouldn't lust after their nation's princess being the standout. Girls matured faster and her figure said as much beneath softer fabrics. She was coming into her height. The perfectly wrapped blade grip and scabbard she clutched held its own merit. He knew they would speak soon. He secretly anticipated it._

.. .. .. ..

_They had a field of reeds whiter than snow and no one around. That they were going to be watched regardless didn't matter. He left his toes. Swinging a fist stopped against hers rattling their bones and whipping at a breeze native to his homeland first. He pushed, gaining leverage, fierce eyes locking with hers and she wouldn't reveal any struggle. Despite the escalating pressure she stood her ground. She swiveled her arm with her hip to shove him back folding the flora they practiced on in one, brisk stroke. He slid to a stop on toughened feet careful to lower a dusted arm from his face. The stirred up gust shushed to let it sink in. He chose to admire movements just as minimal as they were graceful. Not needing to draw her sword was no insult. She instead studied the cracks on its guard._

_"Some things never change," she said in a pitch smooth as the silk lining her top._

_He could account for her tanned skin. Not darker than his but more storied. The blue of her eyes was icy, affecting as they were._

_"The decision may have been the correct one," she sighed._

_"But you do not approve?" he said with a deeper voice and a thicker accent._

_It made her weak in the knees though she would kill him before ever telling him. She didn't mind the skirt he knew she made from the hide of a minotaur's carcass. He used to think it dried leather and even when cleaned it smelled like she burned it daily._

_"Why would my opinion matter here, your highness?" she said._

_Her back turned to the grown man she addressed. He was no longer the mischievous boy only wanting to learn what being the head meant. The best of what their people were. She had her own struggles with it. Her garments fluttered with her hair. Each straightened lock was dark as a raven's feathers though she preferred the much shorter curly of his. Everything was in order from her knee-high shoes to her tiara's glinting middle. No blemish on her flesh, nor in her gait, it was the right tempo and with her shoulders back she turned a glance at his cool confidence._

_"You have improved," she said through a smile that could light the darkest room._

_"Why does that sound like a well-shrouded insult?" he grinned._

_"Paranoia is a weakness, King T'Challa," she said._

_"And presupposition is yours, Princess Diana," he retorted._

_Her stomach didn't flutter but her knees locked if ever he stared at her. She tried to force her frown for it. She could never outwit him like he could never overpower her._

_"...This duty you now have. It could ruin you...," she said after waiting until they were alone. "Your father will be avenged. The hand I extend is a courtesy. Let me help."_

_T'Challa stood upright, almost as tall when he chose to. Diana focused on his arms as they were bigger than hers. Ideas made her huff as she glanced for her feet like they annoyed her._

_"Facing the wrath of an Amazon queen is nothing I would welcome," he said running a hand against the sweat on his neck. "Your focus is your people. As it should be. It is why I respect you enough to decline."_

_She fought with her own spoiled nature. He didn't go so far as to point out that she usually heard only what others thought she wanted to hear. It made her chuckle but not so loud that he noticed._

_"I have never been turned down in my entire life, your highness," she said for him._

_She hated watching him smile._

_"Clearly. But there is no one better to represent the Amazons," he said and looked around like he knew what was to all sides. "Even now they watch every move we make. You think that will change if you were to help in any way?"_

_He stepped closer and she waited with a stillness he remembered. His voice had its calming effect, yet she wouldn't yield. Both remembered the time lost._

_"What will you do?" she said tilting her head to worm a stare into his._

_"Not what. When," he said at the ground. "As soon as I have the chance I will hunt down the one responsible, and end them."_

_She stepped closer and they were running out of space between them. He smelled of the wet sheen coating his body and she didn't, musty but not unpleasant. He remembered her scent and could sniff it out no matter how far apart they were. Sweet like the freshest berries, alien, it was distinct to her. She drew her sword so fast his blinking missed it. As he glanced down a tip that could cut through the atoms making him up was at his neck._

_"You owe me a new scabbard," she said._

_As he glanced one side of her full lips were raised._

_"Put it on my tab," he said._

_He raised his hand to show her what she didn't see him take. Tossing her blade's sheath to her she caught it and dressed her weapon just as swiftly. Surprising her, he took one knee as was custom when addressing the princess, foreign or not. Her brown sandals wrapping perfect skin in stripes didn't make him snicker. She set a finger under his chin as she enjoyed touching him. His skin was rough. His countenance wasn't._

_"We both know my word will never sway you," she said._

_"You act like it is such a terrible thing," he said when he stood._

_She didn't stop her stride. He didn't chuckle at her not being a snob. Her hair blowing across her parting glance left him humbled. He remembered why when his heart stopped beating so fast. He shook his head, swallowed slowly, and wanted to block out the image that she was from his thinking. It was too distracting._

* * *

NOW...

The problem wasn't a temple and its encrusted with diamond walls. The outside world could never produce white marble like a monument erected in honor of the Olympian that chose her by its entrance. She let the wrap holding her heavy chest be, glad that she was alone, or something like it. Sisters watching every move she made boxed her in. She didn't realize how sore she was until she dipped a toe into a spring and winced as it hurt to. Pain was easy to take for granted. Braving it she let her cover drop and waded in. The stiffness started melting away from her neck and evened out at her waist. Sparkling glass above her was so bright it lit the temple from back to front. Her reflection in it caught her gaping.

"I see this spring is still your favorite," her visitor said.

"My queen!" she straightened up to gasp.

The queen always surpassed her in confidence. Her chin was held high but she never looked down on anyone there. Her people, her daughter, all stood from their kneeling and dared not to speak until she did.

"Leave us," she said not taking her eyes from the princess's.

Her tone of authority, their sisters left as one, armor clanks muffled like the hard steps that were in sync. The princess wondered if she ever blinked a day in her life. Watching her take her time kept her attentive.

"Engaging the Kraken will task even your strength, Diana. You will need your rest," she said.

"Trust me. Sleeping won't work," Diana said.

Seated again the queen eased herself next to her. It was normal to feel her mother's fingers slipping into and along her hair. She stared off as it always made her feel twelve and she was often treated as such.

"Sulking isn't your custom," she said to get her attention.

"You know our dealings are strictly platonic," Diana hesitated.

"Yet you are reminded of a circumstance nearly ten years old," her mother said with a parted grin. "Menallipe speaks of your visions. The Wakandan king is alive and well."

"My...T'Challa...and the state of his health was never in question," Diana said turned to see how she was the spitting image of a woman that never aged.

Her mother's crown heavier and bejeweled she had a way of staring to draw out a confession. Diana relaxed, or tried to, her back against an edge that would scorch the lesser. Forgotten mistakes didn't stop her feeling like a spoiled brat again. Soft and wet the back of Hippolyta's hand slid against her cheek.

"It is the one thing I forbid. It seems you have yet to understand why," she said with patience.

"Forgive me, Queen Hippolyta," Diana shook her head. "Know that I never once blamed you."

"...Aymeia. Krysose. Our greatest general, Phillipus. A persistent human pilot you claim can be trusted. They all vie for your affections...," Hippolyta reminded her.

"Man's ignorance is stressful enough," Diana smiled as nonchalantly as she could. "I haven't the time for carnal escapades."

She submitted to the tingle of her blood rushing. Aches weren't a bother anymore. Hippolyta stood to let what wasn't water trickle down her long legs. She held a hand out and waited. Diana took it, was pulled to her feet, and as her mother's touch was coarse she never questioned why. They were warriors. She felt her cheeks being cupped and smiled to keep up appearances.

"Den sas axízoun," Hippolyta said as she offered a genuine one. (Translated from Greek: "They don't deserve you.")

"Den se axízo," Diana tried, for her, holding her mother's fingers until they left her face. (Translated from Greek: "I don't deserve _you_.")

She watched steam wafting from the spring as it rippled in one direction. She had to wait but when she knew her queen was no longer a presence, she could finally sigh.

.. .. .. ..

"Hahhn!... Haahn!... Haahnn!"

Her arm wasn't burning despite the number of times she swung it. When she drew her fist back red bits of asphalt were coating her knuckles. The splits on them closed as she caught her breath and composed herself. She remembered she was on her knees driven at least a foot into the street. Busted fire hydrants weren't spraying as loud as the phones she could hear clicking. Part of her celebrity was being watched as she stood from straddling a beast larger than her. Its head was a bubbling smear. A disappearing smear. What was muscle, gray ripped wings, and fur as bloodied as her chest and face left as a powdered mist. She could breathe it in but they couldn't.

"Stand back! Don't crowd her!"

She heard that city's law enforcement huffing their annoyance. Too many people wanted their fifteen minutes. Enchanted bracers shielding her forearms squeezed them tighter. She blamed being so tense.

"Wonder Woman! You rock girl!"

"Damn. She's so hot!"

"Over here Wonder Woman! Look this way!"

She turned to a smoldering road and barricades keeping the swarm back. A boon coiled by her hip was glowing like it knew she wanted to leave. She could leave, and one hop was all it took. They watched her back straighten and her hair blow to the small of it as fast as she went. Wispy whites joined the blues rushing by. Her shield, the blade sheathed between it and her armor's metal lining didn't impede her picking up the pace. She wouldn't relax until she cleared that city's highest landmark. Whether the canyons were glass or not didn't matter. Sticking around too long was never ideal.

* * *

"...Gods that feels so good..."

There was no bruising the water could splash. She gave in to it palming the tile on a wall to lower her head letting it hit the back of her neck. Minutes of forgetting herself gone she traded one foreign space for another, albeit less furnished, wringing her hair with a towel just to toss it anywhere. She found a dingier t-shirt slipping it on to let it fall just shy of her knees. Passing sirens outside weren't her problem. She hoped. She moved in no rush between satin sheets dropping her head onto a pillow that wasn't fluffed. A fan above her was on despite her thinking she turned it off earlier.

"Just take a nap Diana. One nap," she said.

Her tiara hung with her dual-arched breastplate by her bathroom door, a glance left. Weapons that were alive sat next to it gleaming like they were out of their element and were. Her fingertips felt itchy.

"One nap," she said again and again it didn't work. "...Ugh!..."

Swinging her legs beside her mattress she stood and shuffled to her target. A phone she rarely used was flat on its face by her walk-in kitchen bar. Swiping her thumb along its screen got rid of dust to automatically dial the most recent call. She paced back and forth, chewing on her nail, which didn't work.

"Diopeia?" she said loudly as she stopped in place. "This dawdling is driving me mad!"

**"Then go do something else. Apparently bludgeoning a hargraven's face into mush wasn't enough."**

"Am I that transparent?"

**"You can be."**

Smiling for the breeze finding a way past her balcony door she sat on her bed, cooled by it, entertained by something else.

"You asked me to call. I called," she said.

**"Did I ask you? Ah, yes. It would seem a certain king is in town for man's annual debauchery. I meant, debating. Your town."**

"T'Challa is in New York?"

She stood, as a trusted friend said it, not able to sit. Past mostly white decor aside from tribal browns with golds the day was clear outside. When the air hit her face instinct told her to lift her chin. City bustle was no contest for the heavens she didn't jump to. The thought crossed her mind.

"Why tell me? We rarely speak," she said indifferently.

**"The queen would have everyone believe otherwise. It is all but dripping from your tone."**

She turned her nose up if it meant it would keep her from grinning.

"He is insufferable."

**"Is he?"**

"Yes."

**"We nursed you all the days of your life, Diana. Even before Pallas Athena's blessing you were and always will be a terrible liar.**

"You asked the question. I answered," she said and was amused at what else she knew. "Need I remind you that I am now a grown woman?"

**"Very well. You have the information. What you choose to do with it is on your head."**

"Believe me when I say I am already regretting it, sister," she said with a tension in her face that wasn't her. "I will you see you soon."


	2. Like Old Times

It was run down. A watering hole her sister favored in a nation that wasn't theirs. She didn't drown her sorrows with saké. She also didn't need any disguise but she wore one. She knocked back another shot to dry her throat. It had to have been her twentieth. Vapor and the sound of merriment was invasive as a drinking buddy arrived late.

"First round's on me."

She didn't look up to greet her. Technically they weren't there. She slid another towards a leather glove dressing a hand that could bend steel.

"It won't work princess," her sister said and her voice carried base that could be soft.

If they wanted they could blend in as women out of everyone's league but never carrying themselves like it they didn't try to. She had to laugh at the typical.

"If I believed that I would be home, Diopeia," Diana smiled to say.

"Captain America? Superman? Yours peers wear such _impressive_ titles," Diopeia rolled her eyes.

Diana's smile kept for the biting sarcasm. Honey-skinned and bald Diopeia's eyes were a dead ringer to what Amazons always had. They found the bar counter and she thought its wood needed polishing. Tall and fit, like her princess, both took a second to wonder. Diana placed her shot glass before her. Cozy within her nicked leather jacket the alcohol wasn't strong enough to damper common sense.

"Our queen does not need to send any of you. We have our own shadows," she said to a point.

"Hmph. So that's it?" Diopeia wouldn't smile. "Humans embrace what they will never trust. You are too quick to sleep without a blade at the ready."

"What is it I should fear sister?" Diana's stare narrowed.

"Nothing you can't handle. We have been preparing you since before you could walk."

Diana tightened the band around the gathered hair falling by her sleeves. She searched multicolored lights above their talk for an answer.

"It is why I owe you all more than I could ever repay," she said with it dawning on her.

"Owe us? Nonsense. We prayed with our queen every day and every night. Demeter and Athena be praised. Your formation was all we could ever ask for," Diopeia smiled so hard the beauty mark under her nostril grazed it.

Diana was used to hearing the claim. She grinned again and turned in her seat to nurse her drink. She wasn't one for liquor only indulging when her nerves were wracked.

"Then grant your princess this chance," she pleaded her case. "It will never come to war. I won't allow Ares the satisfaction."

"Have you seen the news Diana? With them it's either war or rumors of war. They know nothing else," Diopeia smirked hoping others heard her.

Her mock wasn't intentional. It didn't get under Diana's skin. Her sister was right. Diopeia took a slower sip of her drink appreciating that though weak it was sweet on the tongue.

"I do owe you," Diana said. "Your faith in me is not misplaced."

Diopeia left her seat to stand at eye level with her princess. Diana had no qualms with opening her arms and closing them around her sister's peacoat. Satisfied with discussing it they gave each other space.

"I thélisí sas eínai dikí mas, prinkípissa mou," Diopeia said pressing a fist over her heart and she waited to see Diana do the same. (Translated from Greek: "Your will is ours, my princess.")

"But you know it is a fool's errand."

"Maybe," Diana said with her turn.

Their bartender returned with more for Diopeia to guzzle. As her princess was making herself scarce and catching eyes as she was one to, she pondered the reason for her hope.

* * *

Heightened senses let him smell the musk of sweat. Lights on the picatinny rails of their rifles dotted the ceiling to point him out. They brightened blackness. Not as black as the regalia only he was allowed to don. The compound doors were supposed to be closed, the densest steel, bent back as he forced his way past them and the ten bodies twitching nearby.

"Where is he!?"

"Calm down!"

"He ran up the fucking wall."

"Shhh! Fan out."

Because they were A.I.M. their ribbed armor was as much a stark yellow and as shiny as their weapons. Helmets hid faces and could alter voice pitch. Two talons between his fingers were ready to be thrown. Glowing like shards of the sun they dug in a space between a few of their feet sealing their legs in place. If he struck, if he moved, it was too fast. Loud shots bounced from a figment in motion. As the firer let his trigger finger relax three more of his comrade's suits were sliced open. The noise faded with his nerve, his chest heaving under dual layers he thought were impenetrable. He wildly reached for the gear belt holding a last resort.

"Not today freak," he shook to grab hold of it.

By then he had a visual. The stories were true. It fell from the ceiling taking its time to. No motion was wasted. Its eyes were gleaming coals, setting on him. The sheen of its full-body garb had a life of its own. Most unsettling were the sharpest points of every finger it uncurled.

"RAAHHHHHHH!"

Point blank shooting didn't work. Not when torrid beams ricocheted from its chest to burn through everything else. When he blinked his shoulder was singed and he was flipped from his feet. Landing face-first wasn't the pain of feeling helpless. Then he saw nothing. The victor wasn't labored under the mask. Not when he could hear a fall before it happened. He was already crouched from his tumble away as it crashed through the ceiling. A synthetic weapon was missing arms carrying what maimed it on its front. They hit the floor hard folding it two ways. There was no dust to settle. Just the shriek of metal torn apart. A shaking command center on fire and the one responsible pulled her blade from a hollowed face. Sparks jumped at the blessed steel she sheathed to her back. She didn't yet turn to someone she could never hear coming, which often irked.

"You missed one," she said.

When she did turn she wanted to see the face shrouded by his legacy. His handiwork was all around. Under her boots blood pooled from those that were left alive.

"Princess Diana," he said dryly. "You play a dangerous game."

"Such is the lot of any hunter," she said.

Both let the space between them remain the coolest. Where he pulled a compact, golden rectangle from was anyone's guess.

"The Kimoyo Card identified one of many," he said. "This compound has nothing that would interest you."

"Don't be so sure," she said and she glanced for any console that might have worked.

Like him she had grown into the look. The tiara didn't age a day. He had to keep eyes on her making her way to a dashboard that wasn't solid. Where her fingers tapped, air replied, shaping flickering symbols that sprung up from what was left of it.

"The JA could use this information," she said.

As he was next to her, folded arms across a chest that seemed to get bigger if it flexed, she paid no attention to his garb having no scent.

"Diopeia said you were in town," she said not turning her face.

He didn't grumble.

"Know that her loyalty is genuine," he said.

As a device he invented worked its magic she had to acknowledge why it impressed. One thought and the light show he conjured with it ended.

"I hear they've taken to calling you Wonder Woman," he said.

It was then she gave him an audience.

"I did not choose the moniker," she said losing her patience.

"Yet it fits," he said and she didn't know if he meant to flatter or insult.

"Ten years and you still chase ghosts. There is a name for that too," she said.

He didn't fully turn his back to her. As she finally got something like a sigh, she waited for him to speak, on pins and needles, just good at hiding it.

"What would you have me do, Diana?" he said and, to her, using her true name was progress.

"What any healthy twenty-three year old would. Stop this relentless pursuit. And if not, allow those that are allies to play the part."

She heard him smirk like he meant to scoff.

"The Justice Avengers was never my station. You know this," he said.

"I know that you have worked with friends only to spy on them."

"Wakanda has many enemies. Some of them come under the guise of fellowship."

"And none of them have ever come close to endangering your people. If history is to be believed."

He let her slowly pull the mask away to see his stubble darkening a strong jawline. Slanted amber eyes not as rounded as hers they were less harsh, if only because she was to his fore. She stopped herself from touching him instead giving him back his cat-eared right, careful to.

"They need a rested king. Not an obsessed one," she said calmly.

They were often told they could hold their chins better than most. They had to. Appearing weak for any reason would shame what they were. She was reminded he disabled the alarms, the surveillance systems, and as such she had no care that they might have been seen together. But she didn't touch him. He watched her leave her feet a heavily armed seraph he could never pick apart. No genius level intellect could. As she slowed her ascent her looking down on him wasn't meant to offend.

"Consider my words," she said with the flawless that was her face scrunching for the uncertainty she wrestled with. Less obvious was the rope at her hip lighting the way out. When she and it were gone he was left with the beaten and his own regret.

.. .. .. ..

Whatever mortals knew about Tartarus was a joke. He had firsthand knowledge, naked and on his knees while his impenetrable skin cooked.

"ARES," rang several voices merged as a constant source of ridicule.

It was almost worst than different birds of prey coming to pick at his flesh every other hour. Red smoke lifting from his eyes was their natural color boiling from the heat. His chains were as black as his flesh after centuries there charred it to a crisp. Though white as a dove's feathers, like his father's, his hair was trimmed much shorter and dry from the lack of wetness. What he wouldn't give for a handful of water. A drop even.

"Here to rebuke me uncle? Have at it. It is not like I have somewhere else to be," he grumbled, his voice deep, but scratchy from thirst.

"YOUR INFLUENCE IS WHAT BROUGHT YOU HERE."

"Is that what father says? When he isn't lusting after Themyscira's denizens. Tell him they were never his."

Trying to see anything in total darkness was impossible, even for him. The abyss offered nothing. Only pain. Pain that was a constant no matter how much he strained his great bulk and grit his teeth.

"ZEUS IS EXACTLY WHAT YOU ARE. PREDICTABLE. THERE IS NO ONE ELSE AS ACCOMPLISHED AT PROMPTING THE PRIDE OF MEN."

His smile started as arrogant defiance but ended as a snarl and a dry cough.

"Athena's chosen is mine. The Sisters of Fate bend to no one. Least of all an orphan-king I aim to humble."

He raised his head as much as he could despite being perpetually bent over.

"..."

"Understand that Olympus is not my concern. The thought of their ignorance is the only entertainment you allow."

"THEN TELL ME. WHAT IS YOUR CONCERN?"

He chose to not answer. Flames he couldn't see made a succession of slight, sharp snapping noises. His only company was fading. Though faint he could see a spec in the distance. It was growing. Suddenly the fire wasn't so unbearable. The smile above his dimpled chin couldn't have spread wider.

* * *

"...Someone's got a pep in their step today..."

She didn't adjust rimless glasses she didn't need to wear. Behind them her secretary was ahead of her cherry wood desk. A new addition to an office not yet organized. Etta's cheeks were rosy, blonde curls fell to a blazer similar to the one her boss decided on and though portlier nothing about her said insecure.

"What can I say? Things are good," Diana said not coy about it.

"Things _are_ good, ambassador," Etta said.

She took hold of Diana's favorite china and tipped a fresh pot to fill it.

"A little while on the beat and she's already got a flag planted," she said and a southern twang suited her.

She watched Diana blow at the steam after handing her tea that wasn't store-bought.

"Is that what they say?" she leaned back in her chair.

She didn't let her hair down from its bun and had a mind to. Etta glanced to her red nail polish, folding her skirt under her taking a seat on Diana's desk.

"Actually. They say you're camera shy. Freakin' idiots," she scoffed. "Maybe it's best I can't bench press an eighteen wheeler."

"Letting it get to me would be too easy," Diana said and she matched the good mood on her way to the nearest file cabinet.

She had to be careful if she pulled anything. She reached for a stamped folder and flipped through it to see one dossier recently printed.

"I'll need a copy to take home," she said not taking her eyes from a familiar portrait.

"It's ready and waitin'," Etta said lifting the duplicate she wagged.

Snapping her fingers turned on a flat panel television mounted over spears crossing at their heads.

_'...Wonder Woman's first official public address three months ago. Whether rumors about her past relationship with Wakanda's king are true it would indicate he is the only man, other than decorated USAF pilot Colonel Steve Trevor, to have ever seen or stepped foot on her nation's soil...'_

"Please turn it off," Diana huffed pinching the thin bridge of her nose and closing her eyes as hard as she could.

Etta laughed under her breath and snapped again. As she couldn't hear any talking heads Diana could see as her eyes opened. Burgundy walls led to the bay window she left cracked. She pulled a black band from her hair tilting her head back as she shook waves of it out. Unbuttoning her suit jacket revealed armor she didn't take off molded to fit her upper body like a second skin. She took her glasses off and tossed them for Etta to catch.

"Those bracers...," Etta said wondering how the silver they were made from never tarnished. "...is that like a for life thing?"

"There was a time when the Amazons weren't always free. We wear these to remind ourselves."

Diana slowly took her tiara from Etta's holding it out. It was so light that as she slipped it over her brow she didn't feel it. It was easy to forget it could cleave open most of their metals.

"You turnin' in?" Etta asked on her way to a closet to hang up a barely worn skirt and coat.

"When have you ever known me to turn in?" Diana said adjusting one of her bracers as she opened and closed her hand.

"Never girlie. It's why we root for ya'," Etta said and if her wink was flirty it was true to her.

Diana had one foot on the window sill. She wasn't yet all the way through when she heard her office phone ring.

"Ambassador Prince's office. Better make it quick cuz she's two seconds from ducking out," Etta said quick to press the correct key on its base. "Well I'll certainly do that. What time again? Uh huh. I'll run it by her. You too. Bye now."

"Who was that?"

"A representative of the Wakandan Embassy," Etta twisted her face to mimic who she spoke to. She pulled a notepad from her breast pocket to jot down what she learned.

"They said King Gorgeous would loovve to meet with you. Wants to contribute to Hope For The Homeless and thought discussing it face to face would be best."

Diana reached for the slip of paper she offered. She read it once and glanced for Etta's looking at her like she needed her to say yes. She had no like for the too privileged as she knew all too well what that meant. Thoughts of the asker, her charity, and Etta's egging her on helped her make a decision.

* * *

No one looked better in black. Some often told him but he had an upscale dining hall to himself and the time to rethink it. His visitor was led by the hired help keeping their composure. Their waiter pulled her seat from darker decor not as rosed. Her little black dress had a marigold's soft hiding perfect legs and hugging how her hips were wide. A closing down-slit allowed a peek at her ample bosom, also hoisted. She left her hair at the back of her head with strands grazing eye lashes that were never done up. He wanted to see her repeat her walk in but she was sitting.

"Your highness," she said as it was proper to. "Since when do you own one of these?"

"Since yesterday," he shook his head. They weren't drinking the wine no matter how much the bottle left for them cost. She noticed his glancing around like an emptied, glamorous building wasn't his way.

"I figured out in the open was better," he said well aware she was sizing him up. Her attention stayed on his shoulders. His suit jacket worked to enhance what was natural.

"I almost said no," she said.

"To Etta?" he guessed.

"To myself," she said.

He reached for a glass of water. It was typical. As he barely sipped some, he stared to it.

"She has the check. Do what you will with it," he said. "I asked you here because this, whatever this is, never sits well."

"So there is something that can unsettle the great *Damisa-Sarki," she said and he smiled more for her nonchalance.

"Can I finish?" he said. She nodded like she wanted him to.

"There was a time when we could do this freely. Minus the pretense."

She wanted to smile with him. Not at the beige arches reaching for a glass ceiling but never touching it. Downtown Manhattan had its swank and it played second fiddle. She stroked the neck of her empty wine glass to remember they were there.

"Those were simpler times," she said. "We were simpler."

He leaned into their discussion letting her see how he was invested. She noticed more that his wider lips weren't as full, but a reminder that they were the only soft place on him. He slid her a small stack of eight-by-tens.

"A.I.M.s updated version of S-Hs. Not like the model you disagreed with," he said straightening up. "We can discuss it later."

As she flipped through each what he offered was a godsend. She slid them aside and pressed her fingers to her temples. As she winced from a different kind of fatigue she couldn't rub away, he waited.

"I would say go home and get some rest if I didn't know better," he said to prompt her grin.

"Don't start," she said. "We were so close to cordial."

It got him to laugh, though briefly. She treasured his smile as it had been too long since she witnessed it.

"I need this," she said. The fears that paparazzi or some other prying eye was just outside melted. They weren't there to eat and they weren't there to worry. Locking eyes they let the silence sit.

"It turns out your, help, would be appreciated," he said and she could barely believe her ears.

He didn't indicate he was false when his base dropped. The thirteen-year-old in her wanted to reveal why it was something she desired. The adult she was kept her cool.

"And?" she pressed.

"And I would rather none of our peers trouble themselves," he said. "Your oh so charming presence is more than enough."

She wanted to punch him but settled with shaking her head to chuckle.

"Do you think Klaw survived your last encounter?" she asked, back to business. Plates of steaming meat and vegetables they didn't glance to could wait. Their waiter kindly bowed before he let them be.

"Not entirely," he waited to say. "But if he is working with A.I.M. it would not be the first time."

Diana considered the facts. The photos T'Challa gave her weren't so pointless as she took them back in her hands to consider something else.

"Steve would ask questions," she eyed each carefully.

"As would Clark," he said. "It is to be expected."

Eating was a luxury neither needed. She had the idea, just not the how she should ask. He read her mind.

"I will meet you at your apartment in two days," he said.

She glanced to see his steady expression.

"Why two?" she said.

"There is something I need to do first," he said.

"Checking in on Shuri? She is a big girl, T'Challa," she said.

"Do I say that when you summon portals to Paradise Island every week?" he said and she could guess how he knew.

"That's not fair," she said.

"Nothing ever is. How I conduct my business is not yours to question," he said as any ruler would. Ready to disagree, she didn't. It took her back.

"...Call me when you are ready then...," she said in standing.

Her purse was strapless and the last thing on her mind as she brought it with her. As she walked she made sure to pace herself hoping he watched every second. It was leverage. Food he wouldn't eat wasn't the spectacle. When he could no longer watch her figure he thought it okay to grin to himself.

* * *

* = "The Panther"


	3. Calm Before The Storms

THEN...

_She rose from the only hot spring the Grove had to offer. Watched by loyal sentries. Emerging from waters that were clearer than crystal and never too cold or too hot. She swept her hair back with it as she stood soaked, grinning up a storm._

_"She rises from the waters like Aphrodite. Gods she is killing me."_

_"It is her eighteenth birthday. You would think winning the Nemeseian Games had a greater effect."_

_"Oh come now Io. It is no secret who she wears that smile for."_

_Untouched nature provided an alcove made of bark sprouting leaves that could only flourish there. Whether exposing their unnatural appeal or wrapped in the finest of when they were dressed for war not one of them left their spear hands lax. They watched, and they listened, for their princess._

_"Our queen is too trusting of the Wakandans."_

_"Too sure that T'Chaka is a gem among marbles?"_

_"Perhaps. Look at her. So eager for his visit."_

_The princess's glistening curves took on new meaning but it wasn't all they thought of. Outsiders, even if they were the most ancient of allies, always sparked a sense of readiness they couldn't ignore._

.. .. .. ..

_"You fare well in running!" she said, not winded._

_"Not able to keep up princess?!" he said as loudly._

_The name for that beach slipped his mind. He had to watch her footing. Her dashes were feints and her speed, a problem. If she swung her rod she never exerted more than she needed to. Hers tapped the end of his, swiped off, hitting where his arched to stop what almost knocked her jaw in. Raising her arms spun hers over her palm she let it fall as a whistle to the side she didn't show him. She stabbed her weapon into damp white sand able to hold it._

_"Fists?" he said emulating the idea._

_"Fists," she said pulling her bracers in place as they had slipped._

_Giving him no quarter she was there a second after his guard raised blowing back the folds of his attire from their meeting. He ducked the foot she swung over his head jumping and upturned to leave the second kick lunged at him. Her knuckles stung whenever they slammed but his blocks kept them out. He saw an opening curving a closed hand followed by his spinning the other for it to be caught by his wrist. He was already off of his feet and on his back when he stopped cursing his mistake. Anything tossed fell. Opening his wince to glance she stood over him with a snide grin._

_"Luck, Diana. Pure luck," he grimaced._

_"Oh of course," she said flippantly. "Turn over fool."_

_He grumbled, to her amusement. They listened to birds only native to her island chirping sweetly with the breeze that kept them cool. He thought the skin of her softly firm thighs wrapping his waist the better sell. She had to slide away the left side of his robe to see a back muscled and bruised from how hard he often worked it. Digging in her fingers she shoved them up and out._

_"Mmmm. More of that," he said to make her laugh._

_"By rights I should kill you," she said._

_"Pfft. Like you could," he said letting her feel wherever she wanted._

_His sudden turning over, for once, caught her slipping. Feeling her hand wrapping his neck he remained still to humor her wanting to try again. She opened the fist she closed but only when she took hold of an object glinting in the sunlight. Gently taking it from its dried shell she kissed where the purple met the leather lace it was attached to._

_"Is that..."_

_"A nectarine pit. Yes," she said. "It signifies a bounty, hoped for but not yet achieved. Tha to foréseis aftó, Prince T'Challa of Wakanda?" (Translated from Greek: "Will you wear this, Prince T'Challa of Wakanda?")_

_Understanding her language, if not the meaning, she received his nod. As she was sitting on him his lean up was so she could dress his neck with her gift._

_"Óti eísai gemátos ypóschesi," she said like she wanted her words to be true. (Translated from Greek: "That thou art full of promise.")_

_"...I do not wish to offend you, but this..."_

_"I am courting you, T'Challa. In the manner of my people."_

_She pressed at his sweaty stomach ogling its rigid lines until she noticed he didn't speak._

_"This is the first stage. It's not an engagement...it's more...call it a bond of consideration. To determine our compatibility. Our propensity."_

_He knew her tan wasn't spray on but a natural circumstance of how healthy it shined, especially at the moment she decided on._

_"Do I get a say in this at all?" he said._

_"Well, you may refuse. But then I have to pierce your heart with my sword."_

_Blank-faced and taking it from the sheathe strapped to her thigh he almost bought it._

_"That was a joke," she said._

_"You would make for a terrible jester."_

_Tapping his belly with its pommel she let him be. On her feet she pulled him to his brushing away the grains that were sticking to the broad chest she kept eyes on. They had the wind and the time. He shook his head to smirk at her being so antsy, shooting a glance at her toned stomach as her bust wrap didn't cover it, legs he didn't mind reading, nor the arms she kept to her sides. She was tense._

_"Speak," he said and she needed to hear him say it._

_"...Again you arrive. Again you leave...," she said tucking some of the wayward black silk pushed against her cheek. It had a way of leaving her tiara in view. He stepped with her to the shoreline._

_"My father respects your mother. Your sisters. If tradition dictates...," he said._

_"I do not care for tradition," she blurted out._

_He noticed her forming scowl. She turned that frustration to his holding his hands behind his back and having the posture of someone that knew better._

_"Damn your stubborn clinging to what you think is right," she said._

_He smiled but he didn't face her._

_"The precepts are there for a reason Diana. Even now we have violated your mother's wishes," he said sounding like another parent._

_"Do I sense fear, sweet prince?" she said._

_"You sense respect," he said._

_She didn't like his stone-faced response. Mumbling under her breath she turned her back to him. It wasn't until she felt warmed, coarse fingers pressing her shoulders that she relented._

_"Do not touch me," she frowned._

_Moving her hair from her neck she ignored her quiver as she felt him pull her close. His body was a harder contrast she pressed her back to._

_"Is this bold enough?" he asked saying it so close to her ear that the feel of his breath curved one side of her mouth._

_She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Turning her head and smelling a foreign spice that resembled cinnamon, his was there, and his eyes remained as steady as he could hold them. She watched them first, then his lips, biting hers, and realizing where they stood she slipped her fingers into the hand he offered to squeeze it._

_"Come. We will invite trouble if we do not return to the palace courtyard," she said pulling as slowly as she backed into her steps._

_His sense of hearing was keener. As they walked the bowstrings in hidden places were tugged but never released._

* * *

NOW...

Sitting on her sofa with his cowl removed was a courtesy. He watched its two reflective ports with nothing to dwell on. She returned to being a presence, not bothering to spot the humming light projected over her kitchen's counter. It rotated a schematic a smaller card of gold could reproduce on a whim. Sitting with other tools she took and checked her lasso but more curious to him were the silvered stars on her briefs.

"How do you wish to proceed?" she asked dressing her head with her diadem.

He left where he sat in no hurry. They had ceiling lamps which brightened her apartment revealing how unlived in it was. He stopped by the bar stool ahead of him, turning to notice that she had yet to stop wondering when he would speak.

"Klaw will be expecting me," he said glancing to the projection. "He will not have planned for you."

"We face him together," she said.

It got his undivided. Her expression narrowed leaving no room for the debate he almost started.

"I will clear the perimeter. Enter from the sky, here. All exits will be blocked off by the time you make your move," he said playing the strategist.

Quiet enough to hear a pin drop had a lot to do with her living on the highest floor of a building that was near empty. Taking his device in hand snuffed any visual that was fading. She stopped watching her cuffs to see him standing at her balcony door, masked. Nothing was said. As his "Habit" blended with the night sky all she could catch of his leave was a soundless vault over a railing.

* * *

They thought the second floor of an abandoned school was obvious. Putting too much stock in the heft of their weapons, the cloaking field around closed off grounds no one could see, it wasn't until they heard the sky open. She burst through glass like the force of nature she was. Keeping her momentum shoved a man from his feet. She didn't see him ram the barrier he was driven into, too busy swinging her wrists to ward off the shots heating her bracers. She had the darkness. They had failing night vision built into the visors she plunged one of their batons through. Taking one by the neck she kicked a desk across the room knocking the weapons from the hands of the two firing. Another tried to shock flesh he couldn't singe catching her foot across the neck, thrown from it to bust open a stained blackboard. Shots sounding like noisy radar pings stopped when the groans began. The dust settled. Wood that was past splintered shattered with the rest of a decaying classroom's wall. In the hall beyond she heard the approaching steps. Then the screams.

"Ulysses Klaue. Tell me where he is and no harm will come to you," she said not bothered that the one she held flailed his feet as much as he pawed at the grip he couldn't loosen.

"...La'anci ku. Masifaffiyar Amazon..."

The face she couldn't see had a voice augmented by the modulator a second from shorting out. She remembered not too hard, but she let him go nowhere. A friend's ingenuity came in many forms. Not needing to touch the gelled orb in her ear she could only feel when it buzzed.

"T'Challa. They are speaking Hausa," she said.

**"Of course they are. This was a diversion. We will rendezvous at Central Park."**

"What is at Central Park? T'Challa? T'Challa, do you copy?"

When she glanced to the man she held, she stopped breathing. He wasn't a heavily armed A.I.M. grunt though she had never seen mercenaries like him. They favored black, from the balaclavas to their combat boots, with the veil dropping to let her know what she wasted her time on.

* * *

It was his smile. From ear to ear he flashed too big for his face teeth slightly stained a shade of yellow. The tribal marks on his cheekbones and chest his doing they weren't chilled by the air finding a way past his unbuttoned dress shirt. His pupils dilated with anticipation as his king was just ahead of him. T'Challa would always remember the defector's lack of hair anywhere on his bulkier body. The slit eyes matching his top that were a crime against more than nature.

"The mighty *Ukatana. Fetish god of the fat, the spoiled, and the self-absorbed. T'Chaka must be getting a little chafed from all the three-sixties he's turning in his grave."

"Achebe," T'Challa said but behind his mask it sounded growled. He considered the rolling hills, the trees that would be an obstacle, and readied to lunge but was stopped by the finger Achebe shot out.

"Ah, ah, ah. We wouldn't want what I tucked beneath the infamous Pond to detonate, would we?"

His king's skulking back and forth like his namesake kept him attentive.

"Did you hear that Wonder Woman?" T'Challa said.

**"Affirmative. I will find it."**

"So loyal to you. She will be the death of us all," Achebe smiled.

"What would you know of loyalty defector?" T'Challa stalled for time. He watched his enemy rip away the only shield he had against the cold, unfazed by it.

"Did you like my trick?" Achebe paced with him. "Oooo if you could have seen your eyes when you believed Klaw was still alive. Does she know how vicious you are when you kill? Does she know that you've killed at all?"

Seeing the silvered glint of his king's claws was the only response he earned. He waved his fingers as if to dare.

"How about we show her," he said.

T'Challa noticed his foe's ability to summon the daggers he designed from thin air. Newer was his ability to hurl them with a thought. Less quick to react was the shift in the air. It did all it could to keep up with their rushing to meet.

* * *

Bombs blowing up in her face was never the best start to her morning. She hit that park's largest body of water with her head, not missing a beat to propel herself, regardless of the domain change. She held her breath but she could hold it for hours. By the murkiest bottom she had ever seen she scooped it up and started for wherever up took her. Some were nearby exercising too early for most but they could see it. The living missile leaving the water to lift a great swath of it with her. As it went off the clouds jumped with her innards. She breathed in flame mingling with thick smoke, heard the popping of her ears and the noise of screams below, and then nothing. She knew she was falling but she couldn't move a muscle. Touching the ground with her back felt like someone smacked it with a heavy, wet rug. Those brave enough ambled to see smoke wafting from her scalp to the tips of her boots.

"It's her," one of them uttered.

Her armor felt heavier to wear but she could push herself from the dirt. Shaking her head a few times lessened the dizziness.

"T-T'Challa," she coughed. "I found it. T'Challa?"

Aware of the people she glanced for those hesitant to help. When the pinching in her skin was less invasive, she collected herself.

* * *

"Stop holding back T'Challa! The sheeple are watching!"

Ignoring the jeers was easier than shifting from projectiles that cut through the armor, the only things that could, rushing with the traffic they fought between. Two hit the tire of a cab sending it skidding as it popped. He had half a second. His leap from one moving roof to the next stopped on his target's edge. Digging claws into the top he tore the driver's side door from its hinges. Pulling the driver free he tossed the horrified like he wasn't pushing two-fifty. The sliding didn't cease until he jumped from it, snatched by his enemy and driven into the sky. Achebe's flight was new. He shoved his king's head against building glass snapping up faster the higher they went. Instinct told TChalla to slice off the skin from the front of Achebe's elbow, which freed him. The drop was close. He thought it was close cutting through the air for twenty feet before his roll hit the gravel someone just laid. He dug his fingers through it to slow his pace to a crawl.

( _"Your head is a mess, my king. I wonder. Have you told the Amazon what you truly think of her?"_ )

"Face me coward," T'Challa said prepping a boon.

He lost sight of his enemy though not the sound of him. His senses compensated with his garb closing the splits in it. When Achebe reformed from nothing his swinging with a dagger in hand missed. The top of T'Challa's boot was against his neck forcing his attention down. His face planting curved in the roof leaving it newly shaped and trembling. Smacking it so hard he bounced from it he didn't see his king lower as flat as how limber he was allowed. Hit by something else swooping down it took him from his feet. Achebe blinked to see he was wrapped with thick lines that were so bright they burned if he watched. Dragged from his encounter with the man he hated the one hoisting him stopped once they were high enough. She casually lifted her arm, and him with it, to eye level.

"Long time no see Achebe," Diana said able to hold herself and whom she leered at still.

"Princess," Achebe sneered. "We have to stop meeting like this."

"The Lasso of Hestia compels you to speak truthfully. Are any of the Olympians complicit in your treachery?"

Smoke rose from his skin feeling like it was on fire yet he smiled to spite her. His bulbous eyes were unique to him. Until they took on all black surrounding the glow of a red she recognized.

" **Such is war little Amazon** ," he said with another's voice.

"Ares," she didn't gasp. She could threaten him with nothing as Achebe went limp. Lost for words she glanced to anything around forgetting that nothing but the birds were.

* * *

.. .. .. ..

That fish market wasn't a market but a select few peddlers waved the day's catch at a harbor's boardwalk. Her leap from the ocean was lofty and it stopped with a thump on wood that didn't get a chance to dry. Passersby had the same wonder in their children's eyes for their fiery-haired goddess. They expected her.

"Dōzo tabete kudasai," she said for a soggy net holding too many. (Translated from Japanese: "Help yourself.")

She dragged it like it had no weight to it. Everywhere she looked she could smell washed off scales and lemon.

"The Princess of Atlantis, coddling surface dwellers?" she heard someone gruffer say.

He squeezed a disproportionately large hand closed dropping a diamond instead of the lump of coal he was holding. She had to look higher to see dark eyes able to flash. As distracting was the lion skin over heavy frontal armor browned but not rusted from too much time in the sun. Under that a peak physical condition never lost its vigor. The villagers were careful to not crowd her space. She didn't care to see him, but her winning smile drew them back, and she opened what she brought to reveal specimens they had never seen before. All attention left the scales of her skintight armor looking like they were shaved from emerald. Some of that radiance circled rounder eyes she kept relaxed.

"Where there is compromise, there is peace, Herakles," she said no longer soft spoken.

Herakles looked down on the mortals nearby. On her. Running fingers through his oily black beard to rub his chin he finished lusting after her body.

"My brother lives. It just so happens the Amazon has not learned the folly in defying him," he said crossing his arms to bulge his large shoulders.

She snickered thinking his gall was worse than his arrogance. Dark waves crashed against black rock off the coast, a stone's throw from the rundown pier they were leaving, reminding her that home was always close.

"Diana's comings and goings are not my concern. Friendships end. People move on," she said. "Though I should applaud her. Rejecting you was the best decision anyone could make."

His very walk shook the pebbles beneath boots with a feline's head that came nearly to his shabby knees. They weren't followed and he had no comeback glancing for how her hair was still a long, wavy red as it had yet to straighten. Her bodysuit couldn't hide all of healthy cleavage she never thought twice about.

"I imagine Arthur does not know of your weekly visits to this realm. Of the one that rejected _you_ ," he said catching how she kept her expression blank no matter what he said.

It got her to leave his side, which she was just fine with, and she stopped at his front. As she stood in his way he waited. She gave him a drawn out stare. The thought of piercing his flesh with one-thousand blades she could shape from the waters not far from them tempted.

"Get to the point demigod, " she said callously.

Herakles smirked and shook his head because it was working.

"So pent up, Princess Mera. It is not becoming of Poseidon's favorite daughter," he said and he raised his hands with his shrug. "The King of Wakanda is among one of their cities. I owe him a visit. You have yet to have your last word. Why waste the golden opportunity?"

"So I can what? Aid in your childish vendetta? You've truly lost what little bit of a mind you never had," she said.

"Then why are you still standing here?" he dropped the act.

Mera believed the grass of a hill in motion had more personality. As he stood with his smug grin it was what she turned to. Blades of it couldn't follow her leaping half a mile in one bound. She hated that her enemy was right and a nagging feeling remained. Piercing the waves she swam with the current she could surpass. She didn't need to shut her sight. It wasn't anymore discomfort when breathing. The sea parted for her and it sounding like a muffled crack of thunder was her shooting through it in the blink of an eye.

* * *

They didn't have a world class medical bay to work with. The basement of his embassy was better. He was flat on a slab as she drew blood with a device she didn't believe could exist. He didn't mind her playing nurse.

"Fast and loose. Trademark it while you can," she said hoping to make him smile.

He had to, ignoring a tiring day and the needle piercing his shoulder. That he barely felt.

"Will you let him live?" she asked.

"As he betrayed them first the people of Wakanda will decide Achebe's fate," he said as he stared aimlessly.

"...Tell Ramonda if I had known...," she offered her gaze.

"I won't have to," he said, meeting it.

He sat up, rolling his shoulder, looking to a fresh bandage dressing most of it. As she was close by tending to a machine able to store vials of the sort it spun to the first prepared slot.

"It disturbs you," he said suddenly.

She turned to face him not bothered yet somehow conflicted. She lightly shrugged once and remembered.

"Ares thrives on his hatred. It is much older than we are," she said like it didn't matter. "The product of a lifelong disdain for his heritage."

"Trusting Zeus never did your people any favors," he said and she needed to hear the wisdom. He had his moments where he wasn't just the stoic leader. She often thought he was nothing like one.

"The Purple Ray was unnecessary. You heal faster than you used to," she said. She stared into his having nothing else for it.

"Striking with no hesitation. I had forgotten," he said.

"And now you remember," she smiled.

The chamber's sterile felt exactly as it looked: frosty and hygienic. Diana stopped fretting his health. She hopped into her seat on the slab's end. She lightly kicked her feet looking to her lap like letting T'Challa see her pleased would give him an edge. Turning her head she noticed his watching her. As he sat up, he was close. A glance away her touching his hand was too natural.

"Thank you for calling," she said.

He dared, tucking some of her hair behind her ear for her. It stole her attention.

"Diana," he said leaving it at that. He watched her chest rise and fall, lighter and quicker, as she watched for a sign.

"Yes?" she said faintly.

Respectfully, he faced one way, she faced another. She stood first, taking a step or two to think about it, then turned to focus on nothing else.

"What would you do if I said I was willing?" she said abruptly. If ever her eyes were set his were available.

"Willing to what?" he said. By then he was on his feet with her staying where she stood. She was a sucker for his standing anywhere topless, the lower half of his habit and tougher boots the only things he left on.

"Try," she said throwing caution to tech she had no knowledge of with walls that negated sound.

Moving to cup her face with his hand she willed herself to notice how beaten it was. Not smooth yet not dried. He wanted to prove he would do anything she asked of him.

"This is a bad time," she said feeling thirteen again.

"No. It isn't," he said.

Diana slowly took a gentle hold of his fingers. She was bolder, pressing moist lips to his knuckles like they were precious gems. Her mind raced. T'Challa's confession made her wonder. It sparked a bout with culpability. She backed her way out. When they were too far apart the touching stopped but she didn't.

"I will be back," she said hoping he would stick around.

That chamber's door fell ahead of her. He watched his hand like it was just blessed by a radiant siren. He chuckled at the thought. It was all he could do.

* * *

*Ukatana - "Kitten"


	4. A Day's Norm

.. .. .. ..

Her superior speed was the best way to do it. Their rounds breezed past her if they weren't swatted as if they were gnats getting on her nerves. Fingers curled she lashed out with her claws to separate heads from where the necks started. Getting a bead on her lunging like a berserk mound of muscle and fur was impossible. She continued like she would never tire. She slowed down so they could see the blood staining her fangs bright as the red frizz falling to her shoulders. One brave enough to approach missed how fast she shoved her hand through the polymer vest protecting his torso. He lost feeling in his chest with the last thing he saw being his heart still beating against his killer's squeeze. She bit into it, ravenous. Another tried at hitting her over the head with their version of batons that were supposed to never break. Before they could spot how it was shoved between one of their helmet's ports. She stayed put to see the last keel over as they bled out.

**"Overindulging Barbara?"**

"Probably," she smiled wickedly.

Snide couldn't describe her accent, an Estuary English. Despite her affliction she remained attractive swaying inviting hips that were uncovered. Her spotted tail had a life of its own waving with her intent but not leaving her coccyx. Through the debris and lifeless limbs she found the console she was looking for. Touching the keypad with bloody fingers she let out a snarl, powering off information she made sure to erase.

"Achebe should thank me," she said, then grinned.

**"You're both insane."**

"Diana would have many believe so."

She turned to look over her handiwork. Aside from the flames she started wires popping from the ceiling to fall wasn't a bother. The loud blaring finally calmed. The flashes followed suit. A little attention meant she could smell how old, or recent, the blood coating the walls was. She quivered for the scent being so sweet.

"None of them are metahumans. A pity," she said like it was a bore.

**"I'd say the message is clear. Planning to bust your lover out?"**

"He's a big boy," she snickered for the hassle. "Breaking into the Wakandan Embassy would be more trouble than it's worth. Have a little faith."

Springing off she used her hands to open steel with the layers of dirt it was buried beneath. Sunshine hitting her square in the face felt better. Above ground her running left two feet as she leaned her weight into her finger strength. On all fours pushing from her feet and keeping the rhythm when her hands ripped up the ground, she relished it. The hunt. A twinkle in the blacks that were her vertically slit pupils, she was fast. Too fast. Pebbles shook from nearby canyons fading as dust when she was long gone.

* * *

His men were on the clock. Everywhere she looked was gunmetal save the for the camo-belted jumpsuits they favored. There, she was Wonder Woman. The as-armored elephant in the room. A visitor walking with a friend not getting the point. She glanced for his deep set eyes, a grayed blue, tired from the stress of preserving those that were like him. She noticed he shaved most of his blonde to a buzzed short to match his stubble. He had a holster for his sidearm and dressed like the lower ranked to spit in the face of protocol. He stopped his careful watch of her when they found a door lifting itself.

"How often does that happen?" he asked in a low gruff, letting her enter first.

"Not often enough, Steve," she said.

Diana watched him position himself behind the head of a table as long as where they stood, too flat and too generic, like everything else. Heavily armed men gripped their weapons a bit tighter at its entrance. They scrutinized everything: the tiara, the bracers, and anything else she could use as a weapon which was more than what they were equipped to handle.

"Fall out," Steve said without needing to look. He didn't see his men exhale with their salutes. He said nothing else until they were alone. Setting a folder he needed to stamp aside they gained the chance.

"You can understand the President's caution. Themyscira. Wakanda. To anyone not in the know that's a terrifying prospect."

"It never had to be," she said diplomatically.

He remembered she could play the type well. She didn't sit in one of the nine chairs available, and couldn't.

"Where's Achebe now?" he wanted to sigh.

"The Wakandan Embassy. Nowhere else could keep him," she said.

Diana remembered how he looked at her. It was unrushed. She didn't know whether it was meant to flatter or irk. Steve let his gaze drop. Not as burly, the years were not as kind, though she recalled what about him she once didn't mind.

"It's not my call to make, Di'," he said to convince her.

"It's why I came to you first. But I am not asking you. I'm telling you what will happen," she said in the most monotone he had ever heard.

It won him back. The stare he hit her with could fold most of anyone not so used to danger. Harder was changing her mind when it was set.

"Is there ever a time when you don't get your way?" he said with the slight lift of his good-looking grin.

"I could ask you the same thing," she smiled. "Thank you Steve."

He flippantly raised his hands.

"I'm just the concerned friend. Whatever that means," he said.

"A friend I value nonetheless," she said. Harder for him was hearing her say so.

"You headed there now?" he said through swallowed pride.

"Yes. Wish me luck," she said on her way out.

Though there was guilt at a past neither forgot respect was less uncomfortable. As she left him to dwell on it making her way through winding halls seemed never ending. There were too many eyes on her every move. She didn't relax until she was free of a military compound's stuffiness.

* * *

Arriving as Ambassador Prince with her secretary was less flamboyant. The Wakandan Embassy lobby was a lie. The floor was so polished they could see themselves in awe of it. She knew the flags draped from spotless arches reaching to a see-through ceiling represented each of the tribes no one would ever know. She didn't wrestle with envy, until he arrived, led by two of the most beautiful anything. Heads shaven their skin was a reminder that different shades of mocha weren't as fit. Her muscles tightened under a business dress she hated wearing. They moved like water under theirs not as pleased that she was within five feet. She had to demonstrate strength, keeping her chin high, lest she prove them right.

"Jira a nan," he said making his way through their stepping aside and bowing. Their hold on spears not made from any mineral known to man relaxed only because he thought they should.

"Please keep Ms. Candy out of trouble," he said shooting Etta an in-the-know grin for her wink. "This way, ambassador."

Diana pushed at her glasses, staying quiet. She could feel them glaring daggers. Their waiting to spot one hint of weakness. She would have noticed if she wasn't so amused at their king.

"You had way too much fun with that," she said impressed that his suits were always tailored to his unique build.

"Now who is the paranoid one?" he said.

He wasn't shy to glance. While conservative her blazer had a rough time. There was no hiding her shapely. Done with the games stepping through one door stopped them dead. She had the biggest smile for an old friend of the family shuffling with his arms open.

"Princess Diana," he said and she knew his robes dragging behind him were as storied as his purple kufi.

"Azzuri," she said glad that he could still hug as hard as he did.

When she let him be there were more grays in his long beard than she was used to. More wrinkles in his round face. Azzuri bowed for his king standing back to let them have a moment.

"How have you been?" Diana asked.

"Impatient, he would say. My king is the man we hoped he would be," Azzuri chuckled softly and together was how they checked. "I trust Ayo and Aneka were as welcoming?"

"I understand why they weren't," Diana said with her glance finding her pumps. "Accepting me will take time."

"Nonsense, child," Azzuri scoffed. "Many times Hippolyta and I spoke of your role to come. King T'Chaka often praised your mother's wisdom. Bast rest his soul."

She wanted to console him for the grief he didn't try to hide. As they had not heard him chime in they turned to see T'Challa prepping the work. The glass table wasn't glass. Over it a row of profiles weren't outshined by unintelligible text trickling down until it vanished. Azzuri bowed not just to his king aware that it was time for him to make himself scarce. Diana's nod was for politeness, though unnecessary, and she watched until his short stature was gone. She caught T'Challa's eyes starting at her feet but stopping on her lenses.

"The look does not suit you," he said like he was trying to come to terms with it.

"You're right. I should walk around everywhere I go glinting and conspicuous," she said and her brow raised with her lips.

It earned quiet, and his smirk, while he moved a finger to enlarge the first image.

"Achebe," he said. "Not the first sighting this week."

"By sighting you mean influence," she said moving somewhere across the table from his partially sitting on it. She crossed her arms.

"What is his story? The real one."

"...He was a Ghudazan farmer nicknamed Bob who tended to leftist rebels from the neighboring country of Ujanka. When the men were driven across the Ghudazan-Ujankan border, onto Achebe's property, the soldiers repaid his kindness by leaving him for dead after they seduced his wife, razed his farm and stabbed him thirty-two times. The legends are stranger. Making deals with _your_ god, he sold his soul to survive and went on to kill everyone who had ever interacted with his wife, destroying the homes of his victims and stabbing each one thirty-two times. My father was not privy to his bloodlust until it was too late..."

Eerie wasn't the word for why Diana took her time to find hers.

"He was the last of the five," she knew to say.

"And the only one to despise my taking what he thinks was his rite. He will not stop until I die, you die, and everyone we have ever called friend suffers."

"But not before we do."

Most unsettling to the pit of her stomach was the face of a woman just below their target's. A twenty-something, freckled, naturally pretty, yet no longer her.

"Barbara could not have picked a deadlier man," she said.

"She hates everything you are. We will use that against her," he said but she wasn't fond of how coolly he played it. The flat projections between them weren't so blinding a barrier. He could see her expressing a want to discuss it.

"She is my mistake," she said done with her aimless pacing. "The others would want her captured. Imprisoned for her crimes. They aren't aware that her curse is..."

"Problematic," he said.

**"King T'Challa. Princess Diana."**

"Go ahead," he said.

**"It would seem you are needed in Ecuador. A mutual acquaintance specifically asked for your intervention."**

They were already in motion. She was stripping free of civvies not able to shake the feeling of déjà vu. It wasn't until she saw what was supposed to be some kind of plaster making up the walls shimmer. Stepping through it her wonder was for a vehicle she couldn't see. The hanger that held it powering on to highlight other purple-lined silvers coming together as if they were pieces of a larger puzzle. As she knew, it was a lab, albeit a hidden one, and she wondered if they were still standing in New York City. Looking to him he was nearly coated in his Habit lacking nothing but its head adornment.

"Etta is in the best hands," he said pulling his mask above a forming smile.

"So this is where you hide it," she said fixing her tiara where it usually sat.

His aircraft shaped like a giant cat's maw the color it took on was a darker tint. She ran her finger along its slick hull revealing itself.

"It's no invisible jet," she said amused that he crossed his arms. He ignored her teasing to focus.

"How many Azzuri?" he said.

**"Enough to keep you and our guest busy, my king."**

"Be sure that Kimoyo is synced with my cowl," he said climbing ahead of her into its cockpit. If it opened Diana couldn't tell making sure her weapons were securely strapped to her person.

When inside she could see that the pilot seats weren't touching its floor. Self-insulated, it was as quiet as a whisper, moving without alerting them if it chose to. What boxed them in hummed the same soft like the area vibrated with its engines. There were cockpit ports finally formed when the black shielding peeled itself away. She rolled her shoulders, anxious.

"You could have said no," he said.

She turned to see eyes his mask shrouded kept ahead of him.

"It is my chosen duty to supervise occasions such as this one," she said with a hint of stern to make her point.

"Supervise?" he nearly chuckled.

She tapped nothing as her side of the dashboard was nothing to touch. It followed her fingertips in squares that rounded off. When she chose to notice beyond his Royal Talon the clouds were brushing against its sheen.

"I trust you," she added curtly.

"Do you?" he said.

Azzuri's countenance popping up between them put a stop to the staring.

" **My king. Princess. I am not so sure you will be dealing with the sentient."**

"They are alive in their own way, Azzuri," he said like he knew what and why.

Wanting to press him Diana calmed her nerves. T'Challa could see it. All Amazons had their ticks. But when uncertainty left them nothing was scarier than when they were prepared.

* * *

His broad smile kept. Even in his box. Four flat surfaces he could see through but if he tried to touch it he would lose a hand. He knew the warriors keeping watch were two of the king's famed Dora Milaje. They had their way with disgust at having to be in the same room with him.

"Miss me?" he said, his tone a deep raspy, louder due to how his box projected it.

They didn't fix their full lips any way when he stood from kneeling. He ogled toned curves underneath sleeveless black dresses that were only a custom when they weren't home. Their spears glowed at the tips reaching for the ceiling. He could guess why they weren't so easily unseated.

"He's a fool," he said mockingly. "Destined for the fall he won't see coming. Your loyalty will not be rewarded."

Narrowed glares were the only thing on them moving as long as he walked back and forth. Achebe needled without having to speak. Then he felt it. His ticket. The burning crimson in his eyes was his cue.

"Sarki ya daɗe," he said with his disturbing smile leaving as a dark mist. One puff and what was his scarred body burst into a flock of ravens having no space to beat their wings. After flitting around in hurried circles they too left any to see it happen speechless.

* * *

She was the only thing standing between a collapsing roof and the family huddled together in the hopes she was enough.

"Go...now!" she groaned through the strain.

She jerked her head to see them run off with several through a thick cloud of dust they could barely see past. Alone, she let it fall feeling more than scorched rubble break against her scalp. Pushing from the balls of her feet let her launch her way through it. Taking herself outdoors the day was bright but the city was on fire. Its cobbled streets played host to an ally weaving in and around the opposition a nimble problem. The smaller of them caught his claws opening their sides or the faces he flipped himself over. The larger were formed to resemble men, at least nine feet tall, with metallic faces missing mouths and noses. As one of the them thought to burn away a pair of citizens with its single optic cavity, she shot off. Pressing her shield against its back before it gained the chance took her and it through brick, glass, and as abruptly, the structure's opposite end. Slowing her slide she watched it roll onto one of its knees scraping the pavement. It pulled its hand from a neighboring street beaming from the face to let off a blast that smacked the bracers she crossed. On her feet, she pushed through it, no matter how hard it was to. Her arms cooked, her ears were ringing, yet she leaned a wrist left to ward it around her spiral to the right of it. T'Challa was there to sweep it from its heavy footing. Before it hit the ground she caught it with a right hook to cave in its chest. Impact boomed to shake where they were. Seeing it open a storefront before it ruptured its back end she turned to press her shoulder to his.

"What kind of vibranium does that?" she said never taking her eyes from an opponent.

"The kind that has been tampered with," he said, emulating how she kept a hand beside her chin and the other to her fore.

They could feel its slow stomps in their direction. The arrival of two more. Hairless from head to toe sections of their bodies flared as much as they rattled. Surrounded, the intent was clear. The first to charge lost a chunk from its knee. He ducked her fist to lift a foot across the chin she already struck. Working in tandem kept them disoriented if they thought to crowd. Diana wrapped legs around one of their necks bringing it to the ground in one, swift twist. Digging the sword she drew into its shoulder, then turning its grip to pull it back, T'Challa dug his fingers into its torso to lift it up spinning once to press his boots into its gut and watching it fold in the passenger side of a smoking car. The next tried at shooting him in the spine yet Diana's shield toss cleaved into where it would fire from. She was taking it through a building when he was leaping like his namesake for the third.

Pressing something shiny and flat to its skull made it twitch as it burst just as suddenly. T'Challa jumped in place to thrust his legs as hard as was needed into its middle, knocking it back. Diana returned with her blade opening her opponent to pin it to the one she didn't engage. The heat from T'Challa's daggers struck as often as he thought to fling them. Instinct told him to spin his vault over the last in sync with Diana's attack run ending on her knee with her sword hand held out. They heard the wires tear from the alloy. The last's head fall next to her blown back by the two stuck together detonating with enough force to flatten the block. Neither dropped their guard. Neither thought to blink. As she exhaled, she stood, slowly. The only thing rising higher than some of Quito's tallest landmarks was the smoke.

"It is done," he said in his approach.

"What? Achebe's escape?" she surmised. "Letting him go must be one of your elaborate plans I know nothing about."

"If I said anything we would do what we are doing now," he said on the cusp of annoyance.

"Why is it you always think I intend to argue?!" she raised her voice.

The battle with an unknown not over it was easy to forget they were standing in the middle of a warzone. Separated by space, clashing wills and opportunity, Diana was slow to breathe out a sigh that lingered.

"If we were there vibranium would be a Wakandan problem," she said not sure that he was listening. "We are not standing in Wakanda."

"No. You're not."

When they turned to a commanding baritone it was coming from above. At first glimpse a shadow muffled rays of the sun beaming past it. When they could see clearly the red cape curved across muscled shoulders, flapping with a wind carrying the smell of burnt copper. The symbol coating his puffed out chest was just as bright. He clenched a squared jaw knowing that the two he kept eyes on were impossible to gauge. In his grip he didn't let go of the torn apart husk of a sparking weapon no longer able to function. A ring of dirt circled his red boots yet he thought against setting them down. No noise came from nearby. Nothing else was said. It made the silence that much thicker.


	5. A Day's Norm - Part II

"Kal-El," Diana muttered.

Setting himself on his feet as effortlessly Kal-El glanced at what he held, then at what became a scene for the region's military to fan out over. Drab greens for their camo-mesh on the approach they held MP5s with the safeties clicking back. Knowing she should Diana was the first to move.

"Alto el fuego. Estamos aquí para ayudar," she said with her hands out, putting some bass in how she spoke their language. (Translated from Spanish: "Hold your fire. We are here to help.")

Their expressions were hard to see behind the bulletproof helmet visors. Each of them could see the ruin all around. The artificial threat having no real features, in pieces. Diana shared a nod with the one she assumed was the ranking officer.

"Establece un perímetro," he ordered. (Translated from Spanish: "Set up a perimeter.")

All but a few boots against the ground scrambled. Diana turned to friends keeping their distance.

"We know what they were made of," she said to Kal-El.

"I'm guessing part of the composition is lead," Kal-El said.

"It hid them from your eyes. The vibranium negating sound, your ears, Superman," T'Challa said. "Several blocks in this part of the city were crawling with them."

Kal-El almost grinned.

"I figured I'd take care of any stragglers. You two seemed to do just fine with the big ones."

For the commotion he disregarded T'Challa's indifference. He turned a glance of concern to the affected.

"Diana. You'll give me a hand with the clean-up?" he said as if asking was impolite.

"I just need a moment," she said with a smile as Kal-El's good spirits were contagious.

She turned to T'Challa's adjusting something on the silvered lining on one of his gloves. She wished she could see beyond the emotionless mask not letting her read him.

"If these are not the last people like them will need us. And you," she said.

"I imagine there is a pitch somewhere in the ask," he said but she wouldn't laugh.

"No pitch," she said. "but keeping me in the dark is not _just_ a waste of _your_ time."

He stopped to think. All around was his miscalculation. He faced her not liking how her beauty was contorted by a glare. Even when upset with him she practiced perfect breath control. Ready to relent he had to see how the people of Quito worked with a blue-red marvel moving nowhere near his fastest.

"Help Superman. Your example is the one they will follow," he said quietly.

Diana opened her mouth to say nothing. She wanted to stop his self-assured walk off. Glancing for the ground she hated how his last words were always the right ones. Not tired despite how long they fought, not hot despite the day's humidity, when she looked from too many scorch marks in the street it was like he was never standing there.

* * *

He didn't expect his night to end with sitting in the dark. A room no one else had access to was finally empty after talks with Azurri, some of his embassy staff, and two of his personal guard. Hated enemies could wait. The only light he needed was his mother's. Gleaming cyan, the hologram of her long, gray braids the only thing that aged her photogenic grin was telling.

"...Mother...," he grumbled.

**"This is not your** _ **mama** _ **nagging you. This is the Queen Mother reminding the King of his duties to the realm."**

He stroked his chin ignoring his glove's dryness.

"Dropping everything to take a wife now is..."

**"Easy. You have dated a number of accomplished women over the years. Pined for the one you let get away just as long."**

Suddenly his seat wasn't as cushioned. He kept still in it to think of the one she meant.

"Diana is...the very picture of success. She needs no man, no king, to validate why."

**"T'Challa. You are the King of Wakanda. A brilliant man. A beloved son I could not be more proud of. But I will not tolerate your insulting my intelligence."**

Ramonda's roundish-almond eyes were steady on his dropping a blank act. He watched how her calm was projected until it was awkward to.

**"Rest is what you need. We will discuss the Council's suggesting what is not their business when you are paying attention."**

"My apologies. My mind was elsewhere."

**"I know."**

He stood as his mother's image faded turning on the ceiling lights without having to flip any switch. The space was cold, off-white, sterile, and emptied. Perfect for silent reflection. Hands held behind his back he had new data to look forward to. A wall to itself with nothing but numbers and the text writing automatically. Much of it circled detailed charts, rising and lowering bars on digital graphs, and him. To his surprise Achebe's smug visage couldn't take his mind from her either.

* * *

.. .. .. ..

She knew reverting from her beastly form would disarm. And she knew the short-skirted dress she chose was the right one. Her associate had a thing for gold. The VIP section of his nightclub was coated in it. An entire space of sound proof walls with a floor she could see through that wasn't. Downstairs may as well have been part of the fever dream. She parted his men which were a mix of cautiously sliding fingers next to their weapon triggers or openly staring at her ass. They had the gold-alloy skin, the glowing eyes, like their boss, with tuxedos fully white. She found who she was looking for seated behind a table with red powdered lines on trays by glasses a swig from empty. Younger women dressed as scantily passed out on white suede stretching the length of the wall. It could accommodate his hulking size.

"Practicing restraint? That's not your style," he said with the help of a voice she thought was too mechanical. "You always had the biggest balls in the room, Minerva."

"Compliments? And here I thought your lackeys would shoot on sight," she said flipping the shoulder-length hair she left down. Slightly bending her knee drew attention to thighs that were a healthy mix of toned and supple.

"Where would you have me?"

"The chair for now beautiful," he extended a hand.

She pushed one of his men out of the way to take her seat, leaned into it and swung an arm over the back, crossing her legs to hide her underwear at the same time keeping him curious as to whether she wore any. He leaned forward in his a well-dressed giant with a statue's edges. His wide smile exposed that his teeth were as large as they were malleable.

"Heard the mix-up in Bosnia has your name all over it."

"We have no further use for the weak, Cliff. I'll put it this way. He likes the thrill. I like the noise."

"Right. Funny thing is I half expected he'd be with you."

If she didn't glance to the women twitching in their sleep at both sides of him, he did.

"Testing out the new talent. It's easier when they're comfortable. Some of 'em resist. Got too much pride, you know?" he said with a fading smile. "Could use a wrangler like yourself. Someone who can keep 'em in line for me."

She kicked one of her strapless heels free. She could hold her leg out as straight as she did for hours.

"Kiss the big one first," she said with a confidence he couldn't upset.

Making pretty eyes at him his were showing new life. They lit up as he burst into laughter he encouraged his men to join in on.

"See what I mean!? I love this crazy bitch!" he hollered out clapping his hands once to shake the walls. It instantly shut his men up. Rubbing his palms together he leaned in closer.

"We can do business, doctor. So long as you ditch the Wakandan nutjob. No one needs THAT kind of attention."

Barbara's youthful smile was slow to rise.

"There's only one problem with your offer, Cliff," she said.

"Yeah? What's that?"

"...It doesn't end with me feeding on your carcass..."

It happened at their next breath. Total blackness for half a second. Emergency lighting dim those to Barbara's back and front could make out that she wasn't there anymore. The floor below less populated the patrons sticking around hit the floor and stayed there. They were scared of something. Cliff stood to cast his men in another shadow losing his patience.

"Find her!" he barked not feeling better about his odds.

Two exits were a brief jog from where he was. Both ends abandoned he directed his men to check their weapon magazines while they moved in pairs. Two opening fire alerted the rest. Their target could spring from the walls, to them and back again. She managed to use the muzzle flashes as cover to swing her hands opening their necks. Calves caught and jerked to the side to twist off a head she fell into her handspring, tearing open kneecaps, slowing her spinning leg to bring herself back to both feet. Cliff's charging her way stopped just as he noticed the men on his side were losing the battle with a swarm of ravens tearing their hands from their wrists.

"Where are you!?" he growled in the aim of his fist.

The surge he let off scorched a hole through some lined to catch it. He then had a visual of a man in an Armani suit relaxing to form as a solid.

"Hostile takeovers are never fun are they?" he said lacking the subtlety of his partner.

Stuck between his attacker's not moving and the transformed woman behind him riding the last of his men to the floor she slashed into his shoulder so he couldn't draw his baton. He tried to swing a punch right into her wrapping his arm with hers and pulling. Ignoring the shriek of her ripping his off she took his tool from his belt and beat his head in until the squirts stopped. Her newly fanged smile drenched red, her hand paused next to her face.

"I believe we have more intruders on our new property. Be a dear and take care of them. Painfully," Achebe said.

"You boys play nice," Barbara said leaving as nonchalantly as she arrived.

Cliff froze for fear of what moving meant to watch her somersault back into her jump to kick one of the exit doors from its hinges. She disappeared and when he turned his head so had her partner. His attention darted to any side he could see.

"There!" he hurried joining his fists to blast a hole through the walls behind his couch.

Left with the sizzling result something hard knocked his top-row teeth against his tongue. His brain rattled in his skull. Unclenching his eyes his breath choked him. Any discomfort was the worst below his neck. The dark red he coughed splashed his chiseled metal chest. He felt his legs go limp. He didn't fall. Something was holding him there. His eyes twitched and he glanced to a limb giving off vibration that ran the length of his torso.

"This is the part where you blow up, Cliff," Achebe mocked.

The last cry Cliff heard was his own. It didn't curdle his killer's blood with how drawn out it was. Closing stained fingers formed the hottest shine with it flowing outward. The detonation he caused hit Achebe face-first. His victim popped into pieces to smear him and his surroundings. The mist stunk with a colorless vapor he thought little of. He remained still, laughing to himself as he dropped the arm he held out, amused at the fleshy, golden bits falling over his feet.

* * *

"T'Challa," she called half expecting that he left again.

She checked her thermostat, took a seat on the blue cashmere next to it. Her guest quickly changed on the walk up rarely one to dress as foreigners but glad to pull on a faded sweatshirt. Diana stole a glance at his fitness before it was gone. At T'Challa's sitting they didn't speak choosing to grin for that bit of normalcy. Her shoulder against his the pleasure was the fruity smell of her sweater and leggings. She kicked mid-calf boots from her feet. He stifled a laugh at the sight of her multicolored socks.

"Not. One. Word," she pointed a finger.

"It would be too easy," he chuckled, his shoulder nudged for it.

She barely believed he arrived alone. She doubted he ever was. Whether they were in the building or beyond she assumed her apartment was being watched.

"You are thinking of Quito," she said eyeing how he leaned into her sofa's back. Even when sitting he appeared as one that had all of the answers.

"Not anymore," he said.

"Kal-El only wanted to help."

"Always so quick to take his side."

He accepted how she chose to watch him. Too much time among strangers, he thought of their roots. It triggered his standing up.

"The Queen Mother reminded me to ask," he turned to say. "How does Wonder Woman do it?"

"She could probably tell me," she said rising as she moved until her face stopped an inch from his. "Or you could...as you are one to analyze everything your enemies are."

"You're an enemy now? No one informed me it was official," he smirked so she would. "That must be quite the burden."

"Hardly," she said. "You vacated your throne to serve as nothing but a headache I aim to nix."

"Left temporarily. To catch a madman."

"One that has driven you mad, it seems."

There were no outsiders to consider. No one around to interrupt. T'Challa dared sliding his caress along her cheek to match her having enough with the denial. Not the type to, but not caring, Diana dropped her guard.

"Then let us try conventional," he said.

It was the most direct she had ever heard him speak. Stranger to her was that adulthood changed nothing. Her focus bounced from his chest to his face, then back again.

"I thought you were not one for the idea," she said as her test.

"So did I," he said as plainly.

The decision was easy. Their lips were slower to meet. When they had, he kissed her firmly as she let him take as long as he wanted. She trapped his head between her arms tugging him in as they both hoped unpracticed technique sufficed. It had been too long.

**"Wonder Woman."**

"...Unbelievable...," Diana griped as her mouth had yet to fully abandon his.

She reluctantly tapped the device she forgot to take out of her ear.

"I'm here," she tried not to sigh.

**"You're needed at the Watchtower."**

"Not before you apologize for killing a mood," she said.

**"Sorry for the inconvenience?"**

T'Challa didn't mind the smell of mint on her breath tapping his chin. He pressed his lips to her forehead to keep her content which closed her eyes. He looked down to see her supported bosom pressing the flat of his chest. His fingers slid to her lower back just over a perfect arch and, owning it, Diana held them there.

"I will be there shortly," she said.

"Do not tell me," he said.

"Stay put," she said backing from him, biting her lower lip as she let her touch slide from his harder body to his belt buckle.

He heard the close of her bathroom door. Just as quickly her true self stepped into an inaudible living room in the best of moods. The feeling was old, not unpleasant in the least, and sorely missed.

* * *

When she got there the air on a recent orbital station felt thinner. Chilly when she walked past wide ports in the siding letting her see a void of blackness. The sun wasn't close, but a massive ball of greens, blues and scattered whites curved just beyond its layered hull. She kept any desire to not be there to herself. Stepping into its Monitor Womb was nothing special. As painstakingly designed as everything else she thought the scientific accomplishments of her best friend a more impressive feat. Standing between a mock-up of the world they protected Kal-El wore a handsome smile at her deciding to come.

"Where is everyone?" she asked once she found a place next to him.

"Well. Batman had issues with the Quito situation. Not breaking news, I know. Officially, I'm coordinating their visits to hotspots in just about every region that I haven't checked myself."

The red, blinking pings spinning around where they stood moved as slowly as possible. Diana was more interested in where they weren't.

"Not one sighting on the African continent. Strange," she said putting her finger to a flattened landmass she could wave to their front. Kal-El watched it get bigger with her.

"Tony suggested I should ask you," he said.

"I bet he did. The answer is still no," she said.

She noticed the dark hair curved to the flat of his brow, but his eyes were as steady beneath it. The chamber took on a brighter hue shedding the stark red it once was.

"You may help, if you wish," she continued. "Discreetly. I promised to not involve any of you."

"That's fair," he said. "Needless to say T'Challa always has a seat at the table."

Because he said it her gaze set on his.

"Achebe and Cheetah are on a roll," he changed the subject. As he had familiar faces sprung up from the floor.

"The mercenaries they killed were his. They must have outlived their usefulness."

"Or they knew more than they should have," she said. "The same would apply with whomever else they conduct their business."

Various thin screens were windows to showcase footage of the deserted. Structures, some still burning, that were supposed to be sitting in unmarked locations destroyed. Anyone inside of them butchered. Diana suffered a bout with regret. Kal-El took notice not needing to enhance his overpowered senses to hear or see what was eating at her.

"I'll let you know if anything else comes up," he said in a way that provided comfort.

She left him to find a place by one of the spotless ports staring back at her. By herself, for the longest time she watched nothingness.

"T'Challa," she said.

**"You almost sound disappointed."**

His smooth baritone so crisp in her ear helped her smile. She set her knuckles against her hips, tilting her head back like she needed a shoulder massage with the thought to ask.

"I tried my best," she said trying to convince a ceiling that wasn't there.

**"Kal-El was to be expected."**

"Will you even be there when I get back?" she said, and hoped.

**"Relax. I kept my word. Painful as it was to."**

Finding his sense of humor biting it was exactly what she wanted to hear.


	6. A Day's Norm - Part III

THEN...

_She had never seen the Hatut Zeraze up close. Behind the taut dark figure that was their king they were legion; cat-eared, red-goggled and shrouded in white vibranium weave that could redirect any form of kinetic energy. The African sun could be as brutal. Mugginess plaguing their Alkama Fields was less distracting than the army facing Wakanda's king. A visiting princess expressed pride in but some of her finest warriors._

_"Karnukan yaƙi!_ _" he commanded dropping crossed arms to pop ten of the sharpest._

_It was then remaining silhouettes strapped with primed rifles appeared from thin air. Spear ends beat into the ground in one, two, one, two succession._

_"Amazons!" she called out getting the attention of her archers._

_Some pulled bowstrings carved from the hides of ethereal boars stretching how dried they were. Those that would join the charge smacked bracers to their bronzed breastplates, or a xiphos to their shields, not missing a beat with another nation's method of intimidation that often worked. Golden clamped at the neckline the stars lining her cloak waved after her strut to the only other leader present. Not yet in their twenties how they carried themselves denied the notion. She removed her hood disregarding the noise from all sides getting louder. A masked T'Challa didn't steal her attention from what was the problem in the distance. When Diana offered it, seeing him fully armored in his mantle was still new._

_"We would be fools to expect Atlantean support," she said._

_"Agreed," he said. "Having second thoughts?"_

_"Pfft. Besting these creatures will be child's play. Try and keep up," she said making light of her boast._

_He believed it. Hearing the shrieks of the undead wasn't like what they listened to. Nothing was. Whatever their aggressors were they gnawed at the air as if they could taste the flesh of prey they had yet to fell._

_"What of her brother? I was told you've recently had another of your spats," she said._

_"Namor would never step foot here uninvited. Border region or not," he said. "Something tells me he had a hand in this."_

_"A way to keep your attention, your highness?" she said._

_He glanced for her quick turn of the wrist to stylishly twirl the blade she gripped._

_"I think you really meant to ask if Mera blocked off the Syan coast," he said which did get hers._

_"Can she truly hold a wave that high for that long?" she said ignoring a small tinge of envy._

_"Shuri," he said as if he didn't hear her. "On my signal."_

_**"Copy that. Remind me why I get to miss out on what is supposed to be the fun part?"** _

_"There is nothing fun about what I plan to do," T'Challa said evenly._

_**"...Diana..."** _

_"You needn't ask, little sister," Diana said on the verge of smirking. Pointing the tip of her sword ahead of her was to single out her first targets._

_Drooling roars were like high-pitched rolling thunder several yards away. Parched earth aside everyone, loyal soldiers or foreign allies they could always depend on, awaited his word._

_"Babu rahama!" T'Challa shouted and took off faster than an Olympic sprinter._

_His men yelling as loud as the immortal women steeling themselves each one of them outpaced the dust kicked up. Only one other could keep up with the fearless leading a merged stampede. She left her steps to fly into her lunge, keeping at his side, blade drawn back as the far off were getting closer..._

* * *

NOW...

"Nyah!" she grunted quick to sit up.

Instead of tense muscles on the verge of burning she felt the silk of her bed sheets. A moisture on her brow also where her skin touched her cuffs she wasn't out of breath, but he was missing. Her balcony door let in a calm breeze with a hint of morning. Shooting a glance to a place beside her bed he was seated, one leg folded over the other and postured like he could see beyond her apartment's drab walls.

"Communing with the Panther god?" she said, glad at gently closing her eyes to rest her head on one hand.

She opened them to watch how his back was to her liking, chiseled and straightened. As he stood he turned to her resting covered by nothing but thin and see-through to tease why her curves were unique to her.

"You know you can just tell me what it was about," he said and knew she would sigh.

"...I despise when you do that...," she said grumpily.

She almost gave him the satisfaction slipping her feet over her side of the bed and dragging something to wrap herself with. Stopped in place by her balcony door she stood with her back to him.

"How many times must we dance around the subject?" she asked without turning.

Not that she would gain the chance as within a second he was there. Instinct told her to sweep the hair falling by her neck and feeling the bristles of his light beard by her cheek, it almost worked.

"You arrived to discuss commerce disputes. Not to needlessly aid in a full scale war," he said.

"It was a one-sided massacre, at best," she recalled. " _See Wakanda and Die_. The legends were true."

"But that isn't what you meant."

"No. It wasn't."

"All right."

As he carefully tugged her closer she tried her hand at ignoring his, if it happened, appealing smile, letting him keep her still as she thought to arch. Her fingers ran the length of firm arms wrapping the cover over her hips and tight belly.

"Monica...Ororo...Mera," he said. "do you know what they all have in common?"

"Poor taste in men?" she said.

She turned a trying grin to press her lips to his temple pleased with an earthy scent she knew wasn't native to anywhere.

"Nevertheless, please continue. I'm interested in hearing your nonsense," she said and their staring off happened in no rush.

They could have climbed back into bed. They could have stood outside in agreeable weather. Neither thought to budge.

"They were not you," it annoyed him to say. "There. Is that a decent enough stroke of your ego?"

She couldn't help her grin leaning her head to his until he let her be. He wouldn't wander far. Not coy in the least her eyes stayed on how his briefs fit whatever contours they would snug. He aimlessly combed over her civilian home, at ease.

"Ayo and Aneka are not here," he said when turning.

"Perhaps they finally realized I would not kill you in your sleep," she said dropping the only thing blocking a visual.

He smirked to himself as she walked around a temptress knowing he would watch and encouraging it. Her skin shined as bright as the bracers not able to hide how. He stopped only because the window springing from the top of his wrist was a sight for sore eyes. The visage of a teenager stabilized. Her silkier curls shorter than his her dimples carved into her cheeks if both rose. T'Challa made sure she saw nothing more than she needed to.

**"If the Council asks why I will not acquiesce to their idea one more time..."**

"You will tell them what mother tells them," he barely smiled.

**"Hmm. Wearing no shirt. Snarky? Let me guess. Diana must be within five feet."**

"You wish. What of the schematics I sent?"

As he asked his host returned, buttoning one of his dress shirts to make herself presentable, confident she would change the subject.

"Good morning Shuri," she said propping an elbow on his shoulder. How he clenched his eyes closed kept her amused.

**"Ha! I called it. Transparent as usual."**

"He went with denial?" Diana added.

**"Of course he did. Perhaps he believes it still works."**

"When you two are finished," T'Challa curtly sighed.

As Diana mocked his frown it was enough to hear Shuri's cute giggle.

**"Your design will take a few days. For once your making it easy for me is a good thing. I have enough on my plate."**

"Let me worry about the adjustments. We will speak again soon," T'Challa put on seriousness.

Seeing Shuri's face fade away in an instant bought him no comfort. He felt the back of soft-coarse fingers against his face.

"You miss her," Diana guessed.

"...She will make for an excellent leader. Eventually...," he said dropping his gaze for a floor that wasn't cold against his bare feet.

She said nothing more, as he didn't. Taking him by the chin she turned his lips into hers pursing. If her kiss was ever an assurance, to him, it normally felt genuine.

* * *

.. .. .. ..

They found the back alley door to a business being renovated. Her own problems not as pertinent she preferred staying at a nigh giant's back so she could gauge every move he made. Though they went unnoticed that part of the city guarded traffic in the sky but she was glad the ground was clear. Getting to it they didn't need to touch anything. As the door lifted the stairs led down into darkness. Another realm, albeit chilled. Maroon lighting hit the pair once they were among it. Neat, contemporary, if it was an office it was well-furnished. Lamps on limber rods leaned out of the ceiling to highlight everything off.

"Princess Mera. Chaperoned by the _mighty_ Herakles," they heard him say.

The first to speak left the glass desk an anthropomorphic feline sat cross-legged on.

"You can't make this stuff up," he said pushing a blood-red tie knot closer to his neck. "Apologies for the discretion. The Obelisk is under new management."

His visitors dropped the cloaks they didn't need to reveal ancient relics serving as their choice in armor. Achebe's focus stayed on Mera's gorgeous, how hers hugged her figure, and her leering like she wanted to kill him. She glanced to Barbara's wink before the latter returned to paying all of her attention to natural claws she licked clean. Short cups filled with water a stone's throw away, it was kept in mind.

"The defector," Mera said. "I had hoped T'Challa finished you by now."

"Ever the slippery worm, isn't he," Herakles chimed in. He set eyes on Barbara's legs then her smile like she welcomed his attempt at anything.

"It's what makes our little group shine. Please, sit," Achebe said.

"I'll stand, defector," Mera said eyeing everything like it was filth she wouldn't touch. "What is it you want?"

She watched Herakles slink his way over to Barbara's keeping her stare on Achebe. No sudden moves from anyone helped an ambiance.

"The alternative," Achebe slowly backed to his desk.

He set a hand on Barbara's thigh dancing fingers along her fur as she snarled to grin.

"A world without sickening rulers," Barbara said, losing her smile, turning her deadpan. "Like he said. The alternative."

Sensing intent she hopped to Achebe's front. Achebe stopped Herakles in his tracks with a nod as Mera's eyes gleamed the brightest in the blue-greens around her pupils. Behind her liquid formed into whatever her imagination deemed it should. Orbs of it split to form knives bigger than short swords whipping around to cut air and block any way to her.

"I could drown you BOTH with little more than the idea!" she said remembering her control over much of what made the world and them up.

"Your head would hit the floor first!" Barbara tensed to act, stopped by Achebe's touch on her shoulder.

Herakles tried at shifting his bulk past translucent birds, red-eyed as much as their feathers were darker than onyx. The heightening sting in every immense muscle he flexed changed his mind.

"We are at war. Like you I can't stand the influence over mankind. **The endless scrutiny of those not fit to judge any of us** ," Achebe said, his gaze burning crimson to expose something else.

It softened Mera's glare. Water once the hardest alloy fell to splash around her emerald boots.

"What are you?" she said with an inkling.

"For too long we have contended with Kings. Queens. Gods. Your lover Arthur sides with hypocrites putting all of your people in jeopardy every day. Namor is smart enough to understand this," Achebe said releasing his hold on Herakles.

Mera raised her hand to ward him off with Barbara's taking a place between him and Achebe's not caring otherwise.

"T'Challa is antiquated. His ideas. His disgusting loyalty to what he calls truth. Perhaps we can make his favorite pet see reason," Achebe said suddenly empathetic.

"Gutting Diana would be my pleasure," Barbara said, skulking around Mera's upright stance. "But Achebe's right. We could use even her for what is to come."

"Assuming I believe the tiniest shred of this lunacy...what happens to T'Challa?" Mera said remembering how Achebe's constant smiling made her skin crawl.

"...Still infatuated with him...," he sighed with visible disgust. "The most satisfying thing would be to hear him say these three little words. I. Was. Wrong."

She quickly glanced to Herakles finding it less annoying to comply.

"You knew," she said.

"Of course I knew. My brother can be very...persistent," he said with renewed guile.

"Your brother?" she repeated sick of the mind games.

As she felt like the only one not bending to anything said she gave each of them careful consideration.

"...Know that if any of you so much as twitch in a way that irks me the Justice Avengers will be the least of your worries...," she said, cold, a bit anxious.

Achebe matched Barbara in how casually they took it. Herakles crossing his bulky arms, another she would never trust, Mera departed by herself. Outnumbered, it was wiser to leave lest she act without thinking first.


End file.
